I open my eyes. I see trees—plenty of them. They're fanned out all around me, only giving way to a clearing around a lake. I hear the sound of water gently rippling. I recognize this place—I know it like the back of my hand. It's the lake where I spent my last outing with Beverly.

I let my eyes scan the area as everything comes into focus. There's the old bench we never bothered to sit on—we much preferred the comfort of the grass beneath us. My bare feet now press down on the fresh grass, almost too richly green to seem real. I scan the cluster of trees, peering between the trunks. But as far as I can see, Bev is nowhere to be found.

She'll come, I think to myself. She always comes.

Just then, a young man appears in my peripheral vision. I turn to him in surprise. Judging from his looks, he's not much older than me. His height is below average—he's barely as tall as I am. As I stand there, he stares at my face intently. There's something in his eyes, but I can't tell what. Something like pity. Or curiousity—could it be curiosity?

I bite my lip, diverting my gaze back to the lake. Bev should be here by now. Why isn't she here yet? She's never late. In fact, Bev is the most punctual girl I know. She's always around when I need her. She—

"Lucinda," speaks the man suddenly. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I think I see his thin lips shifting into a smirk of amusement.

I turn to him, wondering why he finds this moment a fit one to laugh at me. But his eyes flicker back to the most serious gaze I've ever seen. There's a whole universe flashing in his eyes. There are stars—galaxies—undiscovered and uncharted planets.

Suddenly, as though sensing my thoughts, he jerks his head away. He looks utterly confused for just a moment. Then, he proceeds to snap his fingers. He begins humming a random tune through his raspy throat. All the while, he twists his heels and waves his arms around. It's obvious he knows not a thing about dancing.

It's my turn to be amused as I watched him flail this way and that. I wait until he's spun an oddly rhythmic 360 degrees before grabbing his arm. "Where's Beverly?" I ask.

He stops his waltz, reverting to a statue-like state. "Beverly?"

I nod, awkwardly letting go of his dangling arm. "We were supposed to meet here. She's never late. I was hoping you knew something about why she isn't here yet?"

"Because, Lucinda," the man begins, "I am here instead." A wide smile spreads across his face.

"But I don't even know you," I insist. Sure, he seems nice and all—but I came here to spend time with Bev.

He laughs nervously and proceeds to scratch his upper neck before responding. "You see, I'm Omar. I...I come from Pluto, and I have come to deliver, uh, Christmas cakes to you from the extraterrestrial life there! They-they send greetings—and asked about your...snowman. How is he?"

"Perfectly fine," I say, with a sweet smile. "Wonderful winters here in Arizona. The snow never melts."

We exchange dialogue like this for several minutes before I remember why I came here in the first place. "I'm sorry, Omar. I really must be going now. I think I see Bev coming in the distance." I raise my hand, pointing at a moving speck darting between the trees.

"Of course, my dear," Omar says. He catches my eye, and once again I'm caught up in the mystery of his eyes. Only this time, there's disappointment written all over his face.

I pat his shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up. "Don't worry, I'll visit sometimes."

"I would be delighted," he replies.

With this, I turn to the horizon again, to await my best friend. "You're late," I cry, as soon as she comes within earshot.

She smiles, parting her lips to speak. Then she fades. The landscape fades, and the lake fades. Last of all, I fade.